Chapitre 2: Ties that bind
The sound of the old grandfather clock echoed through the kitchen as Rosalie sat at the worn oak table, staring into her half-empty cup of tea. Elias had gone inside after their tense exchange, retreating to their father's study to review whatever papers he'd brought with him. Will had left shortly after, sensing the growing tension, but not before giving her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, his eyes silently promising that he'd be there when she needed him.
But right now, Rosalie felt utterly alone.
The kitchen, once the heart of the home where her mother used to hum while preparing dinner, now felt cold and foreign. It wasn't just the physical space that had changed since her mother's passing, but the weight of responsibility that had settled on Rosalie's shoulders like an unshakable cloak.
Her father, once a lively man full of stories about the farm's history, had grown quieter with age and illness. Now, most days, he sat in the armchair by the window, staring out at the fields he could no longer tend to, lost in memories. Rosalie had been caring for him, making sure he had everything he needed. She often wondered if he even knew how much the farm was struggling or how close they were to losing everything.
And now Elias wanted to sell.
Rosalie's fingers tightened around her teacup as she considered his proposal. The idea of selling the farm—the land their parents had worked so hard to cultivate—felt like a betrayal. She could still picture her mother planting flowers along the porch, her hands stained with dirt as she smiled at the beauty she was creating. This wasn't just a farm; it was a testament to their family's perseverance, love, and hard work.
But Elias wasn't wrong. The farm wasn't thriving. It hadn't been for years. The droughts, the fluctuating markets, and the rising costs had all taken their toll. Even with Rosalie's best efforts, they were barely scraping by. Every morning, she rose before dawn, her hands blistered from the work, only to end the day with the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her chest.
As much as it hurt to admit, she couldn't keep the farm going on her own.
The soft creak of the door pulled her from her thoughts. Elias stepped into the kitchen, his presence filling the room with a sense of formality that felt foreign in the familiar space. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable.
"We need to talk, Rosie," he said, his voice lacking the warmth she remembered from when they were younger.
"I know," she replied, her voice quiet but steady. "But I don't know if I'm ready for what you're going to say."
Elias sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. You've been here, holding everything together, but we can't ignore reality. The farm is in trouble. It's been in trouble for a long time."
"I know that," Rosalie shot back, frustration creeping into her tone. "But selling it isn't the answer. This place—this land—it means something, Elias. It's not just a piece of property."
"Of course it means something," he said, his voice softening slightly. "But what good is it if it's sinking? You can't keep pouring everything into this place if it's just going to drag you down with it."
Rosalie stared at him, her heart aching with the truth of his words. He wasn't wrong, but the thought of walking away, of letting go of everything her parents had worked for, was unbearable.
"What if there's another way?" she asked, her voice small, almost desperate. "What if we found a way to make it work?"
Elias shook his head. "Rosie, I've looked at the numbers. It's not sustainable. We're drowning in debt, and the crops aren't yielding enough to turn things around. Selling is the best option, maybe the only option."
She swallowed hard, her throat tight. "And what about Dad? Have you even thought about how he'll feel if we sell the farm? This is all he has left."
Elias sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not heartless, Rosie. I care about Dad, but we have to be practical. He's not getting any better, and the longer we wait, the worse it's going to get."
Rosalie stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "Maybe for you, Elias, but this isn't just business to me. This is home."
Elias met her gaze, his eyes softened with something like regret. "I know, Rosie. But sometimes, holding on to the past can keep us from building a future."
Rosalie's breath caught in her throat. She knew he was right, but the thought of letting go, of walking away from the only life she had ever known, was terrifying.
The silence between them stretched, heavy and unresolved.
"I need time to think," Rosalie finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elias nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Take all the time you need."
As he turned to leave, Rosalie felt the weight of the decision pressing down on her. The farm, her family, her dreams—everything was at stake.
And for the first time in her life, she didn't know which path to choose.
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